


street smarts!

by loonyloopyluna



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Candlenights, F/F, How They Met, on god i'm going to finish a multi-chapter for once in my life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:42:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22037995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonyloopyluna/pseuds/loonyloopyluna
Summary: Sloane is a cynic and a thrill-seeker. Hurley is a badass with a soft side. They live by the Golden(cliff) Rule: do no harm, but take no shit.They met by coincidence, an accident of fate, but then they keep running into each other... Maybe there's something deeper at work here, after all.
Relationships: Hurley/Sloane (The Adventure Zone)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	street smarts!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CiaranthePage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiaranthePage/gifts).



> I finished this as part of a gift exchange for the tazwlw discord, but honestly, I started writing this a year ago. happy candlenights opal!!! <3

Sloane walked the streets of Goldcliff, slipping through shadows as she had always done best. It was almost race day, and her wagon was still busted from the last run; she was hard up for the gold needed for repairs, but it wouldn’t be too difficult to scrape something together. The upper-crust types of her city loved to watch her race for free, so really, it was only fair to collect some of their coin. Just so she could continue to entertain them.

Intimidation wasn’t her strong suit; if she wanted to strongarm someone for cash, she’d join a gang. But when you’re on the wrong side of the law, the fewer ties you have, the better. No partners to rat you out. 

For the most part, the people Sloane lifted from had so much that they never even noticed anything went missing. She took little stuff, trinkets and the like, and pawned them off; maybe scooped up some pocket change that was lying around. In and out without a trace.

She was casing her next place, prepping for later that night. She figured these folks had been gone for a week at this point. It was almost Candlenights, and plenty of people spent the season vacationing in a place with actual snowy weather, like (ironically enough) Neverwinter. There was a good chance the house would be vacant for the next week, at least. 

She’d made a mark in the sand garden near the door a few days ago, innocuous enough that it might’ve been left by a local kid playing too rough at hoop-and-stick, but overt enough that it would grate on any Goldcliff resident’s nerves, as anything ruining their pristine landscaping would have to be meticulously smoothed over at once. But sure enough, it was still there. Barely breaking stride, she carried on, and walked by without a second glance.

And walked nearly into a group of Raptors; they were wearing their trademark leather jackets, with those stupid, pointless wings. She thought it was a little obvious, but then again, who was she to judge? She had been so preoccupied by trying not to be conspicuous in scoping out the place, that she hadn’t thought to make any effort in hiding herself.  _ Shit. _

_ “ _ Hey, what’s good, Raven?” one of them, a hobgoblin, hollered at her. He was the only one of the five that she recognized; in the last race, his mask had caught fire, and he’d thrown it at her in his hurry to get it off.

Sloane rolled her eyes. Her hands crept to her belt, where she casually looped her thumbs around the sheaths of her daggers. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” their leader replied.

“Hard to forget an ass like that,” a lesser Raptor piped up.

“Come on, Jim, don’t be a fucking pervert,” another objected.

The hobgoblin smiled benignly. “He doesn’t speak for all of us; don’t mind him. We’ve just got a few questions to ask you. We can talk right here, in broad daylight, in front of all these witnesses, right? Nothing dodgy going on here, I promise.

“Yet,” she added under her breath. Keeping her hands at her belt, she jerked her chin towards him. “Alright, shoot.”

“Couldn’t help but notice, your wagon’s gotten pretty fucked up these past couple races.” As he spoke, a few of the Raptors slowly circled around her, until she was flanked on all sides. She kept her attention on them, waiting for the moment they would move to strike, and only half-listening to their leader. 

“Who’s your sponsor?” he continued.

“What do you mean?”

The hobgoblin scoffed. “You’ve taken some hard hits lately, and some of them came from us, so I know they were nasty. And — I hope you don’t mind if I’m frank here — it’s been a while since you’ve won and gotten any of that sweet prize money to help fix your wagon back up. So who’s paying for it?”

“What makes you think it’s not all me?” He had her full attention now, and she crossed her arms stubbornly.

“Come on,” another Raptor said from behind her.

“No, you come on,” she retorted. “You don’t know anything about me. Maybe I’m loaded.”

“You and I both know that anyone rich enough to single-handedly fund a racing venture isn’t going to actually risk their hide doing the racing,” the hobgoblin said. “Besides, you look too scrappy.”

He stepped a little closer, and Sloane backed up instinctively — but the Raptors behind her were suddenly too close at her back.  _ Double shit _ , she had let herself get trapped.

“It’s an easy question,” he continued. “We’re not going to run after them. I’m just curious. You don’t see a lot of independent racers. Makes me wonder how you get by.”

“I’ve just got a really good job,” she insisted. “Now let me go. I’ve got places to be.”

He held his palms up, away from the blade at his waist, but he didn’t back down. ”Hey, no one’s holding you hostage.”

“What’s going on here?” a new voice demanded. There was an authority to it that made everyone check themselves, before they could even identify the speaker.

A woman approached. Sloane herself was short, but she was at least a head shorter than Sloane — still tall, for a halfling, and the large, freckled arms crossed over her chest were surprisingly ripped.

“Are they bothering you?” the stranger asked. The Raptor’s leader had his hands up still, and he started muttering something in protest. She cut him off. “I was talking to her.”

“I’m fine,” Sloane said quietly, glaring at the hobgoblin. He glowered back and jerked his head to the side. He held eye contact with Sloane as the Raptors all cleared out, before turning slowly and following his crew. She turned to the strange newcomer. “Thanks for that.”

The halfling scrutinized her face for a minute. “You sure you’re alright? Do you need me to walk you to wherever you’re headed?”

“If you’ve got someplace to be, I’ll be alright,” Sloane replied, “but if you’ve got nothing better to do… let me buy you dinner, as thanks?”

“Oh, it was really nothing,” the stranger said quickly.

Sloane shrugged. “Neither is this.” She winked before starting to walk away. 

The halfling jogged after her. “Hey, I could use the recommendation. I don’t live in this part of town.”

She fell into an easy pace next to Sloane, who looked sideways at her. “I didn’t think so. You don’t look familiar. Where are you from?”

“Over in the West End. I’m Hurley, by the way.”

“Sloane.”

They continued in awkward silence for a few blocks, which might have been more bearable if there were more people about; avoiding the crowd would give them an excuse to not talk. A mangy-looking cat stalked slowly towards them, and Sloane crouched to intercept it before it started begging.

“Not today, sorry.” She rubbed a knuckle under the cat’s chin. “I gotta eat too, you know.”

The cat meowed indignantly as she stood up, and followed them for a few paces.

“No!” Sloane insisted. “Shoo! Go!” She grimaced at Hurley. “It’s like they think I’m made of meat.”

“I mean, technically you are, though,” Hurley teased. “It’s your own fault for saying hi,” She started rifling through her satchel for a minute, and finally emerged with a few strips of jerky. She tossed one in the road, in the direction they’d come, and the cat streaked toward it, throwing dust in their faces. Hurley started nibbling on the rest of the jerky, and offered a piece to Sloane, who accepted it in surprise.

“That was nice of you.”

Hurley shrugged.

“Seriously, though, thanks for stepping in there, when you did,” Sloane continued after a pause. “With the — earlier.”

Hurley frowned. “That looked like it could have gone real bad. I just see a bunch of men ganging up on a lady, and I’m just like, ‘Yikes, maybe I should step in there,’ you know? Like, that never ends well. Not that you can’t handle yourself, probably.” She looked Sloane up and down. “You probably could. Plus, you’re taller than all those guys anyway. But still, it’s like, principle, right? Those assholes need to learn, or else some day will come when they get some girl who  _ can’t _ hold up in a fight, and there’s no one around for backup, and I won’t fucking stand for that.” 

She smiled sheepishly. “Anyway, what I meant was, you’re welcome.”

“Yeah, I mean, that’s a good rule to have,” Sloane said. “I’m, uh, pretty sure you literally saved my life… who knows what else happens out there because people see it but nobody steps in.”

“God, the world’s kind of messed up, huh?” Hurley asked, with a nervous laugh.

“You said it,” Sloane agreed. “I’ll drink to that, since we’re almost there.”

“Where  _ are _ we going?” Hurley asked. “We’re out here talking about watching your back, and I’m just letting the first pretty girl I see lead me down some dark and shady alleys.”

“The sun’s out! They’re not dark yet!” Sloane protested. “Anyway, you’re not allergic to bees, are you?”

Hurley squinted up at her. “No…?”

“Good.” Sloane grinned. “Apple’s Bees is just around the corner. I just don’t want you freaking out when they land on you.”

—

After the first drink, Sloane considered her empty glass. She had plans for the night, but nothing that couldn’t be rescheduled; the house was just as likely to be empty the next day. 

“You know, I think I’m going to head home,” she said slowly. “The ale here isn’t that good; the stuff I’ve got’s better.”

Hurley was disappointed, but tried not to show it. The night was still young, the sun had barely gone down, and although she had to be up before dawn the next morning, she wasn’t ready to turn in for the night just yet. She’d thought—or maybe just hoped—that they had been having a good time. 

“Oh. All right.”

Sloane stood up and hesitated, tapping her fingers nervously on the bar. “You know, I was thinking—well, if you wanted to—it’s dangerous in the streets at night…” She looked up at Hurley from underneath hooded eyelids. “Maybe you should walk me home?”

“Yes!” Hurley drained the last of her drink and clambered down from her stool. “That sounds pretty smart.”

As they exited the restaurant, Hurley linked their arms together. “You know,” she added unnecessarily, “so it looks like we’re together.”

“Aren’t we?” Sloane inquired. She bent down to whisper in Hurley’s ear, and her hair fell in front of their faces. Hurley’s vision was blocked by a thick black curtain. “I thought I was clear enough when I invited you home with me.”

Hurley was struck dumb for a moment, before she managed to squeak out, “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Sloane asked. She straightened up and readjusted Hurley’s arm more securely in her own. 

As they continued on, Hurley scrambled for a conversation topic. 

“So… bees.”

Sloane laughed. “It’s cute, right? If you ever go back, you should try the house mead.”

“I didn’t think there were bees around here,” Hurley said. “Too dry.”

“Well, yeah, usually,” Sloane said. “But Apple’s got her ways. Besides, they mostly stay inside. That’s why the whole place feels like a greenhouse.”

“It’s so… pretty,” Hurley continued, a smile creeping onto her face. “I never realized how dull this city is, before.”

Sloane smirked. “Practically speaking, gold is just another shade of brown, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think whoever founded this place was thinking that literally,” Hurley said.

Sloane patted her hand. “Well, look at it this way: it’s gold even for those of us without money.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Hurley looked at her curiously. “You think about this stuff a lot?”

Sloane didn’t answer. “This is me,” she said instead, walking towards a tall whitewashed building, tucked in a row of similar-looking buildings. Hurley started to follow, then thought better of it, standing awkwardly in the street, while Sloane unlocked the door.

Sloane turned to face her. “Look. You’ve probably got better things to do than keep an eye on everyone to make sure they’re one hundred percent safe, all the time, and frankly, I kind of hope you do, because that sounds exhausting. But in any case, you definitely saved  _ my _ ass, and I want to thank you for that. So.” She swung the door open behind her. “Do you want to come in?”

Hurley’s face collapsed into a warm smile. “Sure.”

The hallway inside was narrow, and whitewashed similarly to the building’s exterior; Sloane, who had let Hurley inside before her, had trouble getting around her to lead the way.

“Sorry. I’m just up here,” she muttered, squeezing by. “Ground floor, thank god.” She unlocked a second, smaller door at the other end of the hallway. “Here we go.”

Sloane’s apartment was likewise fairly spartan; it was a studio, with dusty floors, and bare walls. Sloane dropped her keys on a table just inside the door and walked in to pull out one of the simple wooden chairs at an equally simple table. “Here, do you want anything to drink?”

Hurley sat down in the chair offered to her. “What do you have?”

“There’s, uh...” Sloane thought for a moment. “I got cider, or, uh, water. I’m gonna have some cider. You want some?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Sloane got up, and filled two coffee mugs from a large clay jug. “Classy, huh?” she said, setting a mug down before Hurley and pulling up the chair opposite. Sloane tasted from her own mug cautiously and, seemingly satisfied, gestured for Hurley to try some. 

Hurley took a sip. “Oh!” From what she’d seen of Sloane’s lifestyle so far, she had expected some cheap, watered-down piss, but this caught her in the back of the throat with an unexpected sharpness. And it was surprisingly  _ good _ .

“What kind is this?” Hurley asked. “Because, like, damn! Where can I get some for me?”

Sloane shrugged. “Honestly, I’m surprised, too.” She got up to top off her drink, and brought the jug back over to the table with her. “It’s sort of a mystery mix. Kinda hit-or-miss, usually.”

“Oh. Huh. It’s good, though.”

“Yeah.”

The silence dragged on for a moment too long. “So, is it like a work thing?” Hurley asked. “End of the night, you get to bring home the special of the day, or something?”

“Huh?” Sloane had trouble following her train of thought. “No, I work in a book shop.”

“I thought maybe, like a bar…” 

“Oh! That’d be nice. Free food, probably.”

“So, uh… where did this come from?” Hurley asked, taking another, more cautious, sip.

“Oh, you know,” Sloane said evasively. “I, um… okay, so you know how food carts and, like, fast-dining restaurants just have those beverage tables, out in the open? Literally no one will notice if you just walk over and fill up, because, like, how else do you get a cup unless you pay for one, right? So I just carry a cup in my bag, get some free cider on the down-low, and then pour it all in here. Sometimes it’s the same stuff, sometimes it isn’t, but I figure if I let it sit for a while, it mixes together well enough.”

Hurley set her mug down like it had burned her. “Oh. That’s, uh… You’ve never gotten caught at that?”

“Well, I’m not dumb,” Sloane scoffed. “You gotta be discreet about it, and fast. Walk in during rush hour, meander for a little bit, get lost in the scuffle, you know?”

“That’s…” Hurley couldn’t help it, she was a little impressed. “Surprisingly well thought-out.”

“Yeah, well.” Sloane slammed back the rest of her mug. “I’ve been doing this kind of thing for a while.”

“Petty theft?” Hurley asked.

“And inviting women over,” Sloane replied, winking. “Step one: impress them with my brain. Step two… usually varies. Step three: profit.”

Hurley chuckled. “Profit? I hope you’re not planning on picking my pockets.”

“Profit can mean all kinds of things,” Sloane said. “Financial, physical, sexual…”

“Oh, I see,” Hurley said. “A sort of… mutually beneficial business deal.”

Sloane did a spit take. As she spluttered, Hurley had to bite down on her knuckle to stop the grin from spreading across her face. “Are you okay?” Once her face was under control, she reached across the table and touched Sloane’s arm.

Sloane shook her head, still coughing and laughing. “Everything’s a metaphor, isn’t it?”

Hurley shrugged, keeping on hand on Sloane’s arm. “Hey, some of us aren’t accountants, so we have to find other ways to enjoy the thrills of economics.”

Sloane placed her hand over Hurley’s, leaning in closer. “I feel like there are much more exciting things out there.”

“That’s true,” Hurley agreed. “However, they don’t let me poke fun at the stuck-up asshats I have to deal with on the daily.”

Sloane laughed again, with her mug halfway to her mouth. She lowered it and glared playfully. “You almost got me again that time. I gotta be careful around you.”

Hurley almost made a suggestive comment in return (turnabout’s fair play, right?) but responsibility made her hold her tongue. She had to be up early, but she wanted to stay up late with this witty stranger. She could make her exit; she  _ should _ make her exit soon. The conversation was heading towards her work, and it would be so easy to make the jump and say,  _ Speaking of those asshats, I gotta be up with the sunrise to deal with them, so as fun as this has been, I should be going. Maybe some other time? _

She took a slow drag of cider as she thought this, and Sloane mirrored her. Their eyes met, and Sloane’s glinted mischievously; Hurley could tell her mouth was curled in a catlike grin behind the rim of her mug.

_ Ah, screw it. _

Hurley drained the rest of her drink and set it down on the table. She extricated herself from Sloane’s grasp and stretched, running one hand through the short hair on the sides of her head, before levelling her gaze at the woman sitting across from her.

“What fun is there in being careful?” she asked. “Now, I’m excited to hear about step two, whatever that is.”


End file.
